


Omega Dogs

by DarkExperience, pluto



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-18
Updated: 2012-10-18
Packaged: 2017-11-16 11:21:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/538889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkExperience/pseuds/DarkExperience, https://archiveofourown.org/users/pluto/pseuds/pluto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Steve Cortez meets Jimmy Vega, pole dancer, at Shepard's bachelorette party, he's instantly intrigued. But soon he's drawn down into Omega's seedy underbelly, racing against time to help Vega--a man who's far more than just Aria's favorite attraction. </p><p>A Mass Effect Big Bang Fic</p><p>Illustrated by DarkExperience * Written by Pluto</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to my amazing artist and also alpha reader, Dark Experience, who not only motivated me to keep going me but inspired me with his absolutely perfect art. Thank you also to Joasakura, who helped coax me through this story's early days, and my marvelous betas, Mirai Shiranui and Firstblush, who both offered insightful, absolutely helpful feedback. All remaining errors are mine, not theirs. And thanks to Alisha Torn for running the MEBB! 
> 
> **edit** Thanks also to Paragonred for the Spanish fix in Chapter 8!-Pluto
> 
> Thanks to Alisha Torn for organising everything and to Pluto for writing such an incredible and inspiring story and for being just about the kindest and coolest author partner I could've hoped for. - DarkExperience

Of course Shepard's the kind of person who _talks_ to the dancers, Steve thinks, watching his old friend chat up three of Afterlife's finest. Especially after he and Traynor forked over three month's salary worth of credits for a private room and a dedicated staff in honor of Shepard's impending nuptials. 

"Stop glaring," Traynor teases, catching his frown. "I know you, Steve. You're not exactly the bump-and-grind sort. You'd be talking to the dancers too."

Steve grunts. "With these dancers? Come _on_."

Traynor laughs. "It's Shepard's bachelorette party. She can do as she likes. And the main attraction is still to come." 

Steve scowls, but without really meaning it. "You sure Shepard's going to going to like this 'Jimmy Vega' guy?" He makes a point of smiling at the scantily clad human waiter who sets down two drinks in front of them, just to prove to Traynor that he can be as lecherous as the next man. 

"Garrus assures me that he's the best. His connections claim he's Aria's favorite. Said, and I quote, 'even I can tell he's good.'"

Steve grimaces. "So now we're trusting the taste of the turian with the gun fetish?"

"The turian who is marrying the woman of honor."

"Because they've got the same kinks, that's why. Sniper rifles, kicking ass, and taking names."

Traynor grins. "Trust me, Steve. Besides, no matter how good or not this Vega is, we'll definitely be having a better time than Garrus."

"Maybe it was mean of us to let Joker handle _his_ bachelor party."

Trayor wrinkles her nose. "Definitely not."

The thumping generic club music flooding the room fades as a souped-up dance remix of the ICT Academy anthem, of all things, pumps over the speakers. Traynor grins at Steve, who sits up on the couch, still feeling cautious. 

A spotlight fixes on the previously-ignored pole in the middle of the room. 

The far door opens, but instead of another scantily clad dancer, a marine in heavy armor strolls in. He marches straight for Shepard, and for a moment, everyone in the room goes tense, all eyes on the Predator at the man's side. Steve can practically hear Shepard wishing for her Carnifex. Then the marine reaches up, pops his helmet, and grins. He's no one Steve recognizes, but Traynor lets out a relieved sigh. 

"Jimmy Vega, ma'am. Honor to meet you, Commander." The marine--dancer--seizes Shepard's hand and pumps it. Steve shoots Traynor a look. 

"Have a little faith," Traynor whispers. 

Vega sets his helmet aside and puts his hands on his hips, clearly setting up his show. "Heard you're getting married. Shame, if you ask me." He gives Shepard an up-and-down and smirks. "Maybe I can change your mind."

He pulls Shepard to her feet and marches her over to a couch some of the waiters have moved near the pole. Standing at ease in front of her, he reaches for the releases on his armor. With each pounding rise in the music, he pops a latch. It's costume armor, Steve realizes, seeing the ease with which Vega removes it. Vega sheds the pieces to reveal a skin-tight, translucent black undersuit.

Steve starts to understand Aria's interest. Jimmy Vega is ripped, and solid as a house. His face is almost boyish under the shadow of his beard and jarhead haircut, but it's scarred, as if Vega has seen real battle at some point in his life. 

Then Jimmy Vega snaps off his lower armor and Steve finds something else to appreciate.

"Probably just padding," Traynor murmurs, lips curling mischievously. 

Judging by Shepard's expression after Jimmy Vega gets up on the couch and grinds his hips a bare inch away from Shepard's face, it doesn't look like 'just padding' up close.

Steve's leaning so far forward he's almost falling out of his chair. He makes himself sit back.

Vega grins and climbs off Shepard's chair, heading for the pole. As he turns around Steve gawks. The rear is cut out of the undersuit, exposing one of the tightest, firmest, finest asses Steve has had the pleasure of seeing. The thin black stripe of a thong passing down between the man's buttocks serves no purpose but to tease.

"Guess you approve," Traynor says, laughing. 

Steve swallows. He can only hope Shepard's enjoying this show half as much as he is.

Vega wraps his hand around the pole in a way that makes Steve think of nothing but that hand wrapping around other long, hard things. Then Vega drops abruptly into a crouch before sliding the front of his body up the pole. His hips undulate as he moves up.

"Jesus," Steve breathes, and Traynor laughs again. "What?" He fumbles for words. "I mean. You just wouldn't think a guy built like that could move like that, you know?"

" _Sure_ that's what you were thinking," Traynor says. "I'm going to get another drink. You want?"

"Uh. Yeah. Thanks," Steve says, barely hearing her. Vega is stalking around the pole; once it's between himself and Shepard, he hinges at the waist, falling forward, grinding the pole against the cleft of his ass. Then he wraps both hands over the pole, above his head, showing off the impressive muscles in his back and shoulders, before vaulting up. Steve has a brief fear that the pole is simply going to snap under the big man's weight, but it doesn't, and Jimmy Vega hooks both legs around it before letting go with his upper body and arching his back. The pole juts out from between his thighs like a massive silver phallus--or a pair, one disappearing between his buttocks. He slides partway down before grasping it again and swinging off to much applause.

Traynor sets something purple and faintly glowing in front of Steve, who drinks it without even tasting it.

As the music ramps up, Vega moves behind the pole again, and during a particularly fervent section of the anthem, tears the undersuit off. Traynor sticks her fingers in her mouth and lets off a wolf-whistle. 

Stripped down to nothing but a thong, Jimmy Vega is on full display. He has the body of a bulked-up Greek god. Tattoos climb up one side of his neck and shoulder, and stripe his back and chest like rank bars. He grabs the pole with both hands again and uses the strength of his arms to pull himself up. He spreads his legs wide around the pole to give the room an eyeful, and then, in a sheer display of power, kicks himself into a spin around the pole. He ends up with his back to them and wraps his legs around the silver shaft before he slowly raises and lowers himself several times. 

Steve hooks his fingers in his collar and yanks slightly. Even though he knows it's the intended effect, he can't get rid of the idea of that pole as a cock Jimmy Vega is eagerly riding, can't stop wanting it to be his cock instead. 

Traynor knocks him in the arm. "Now I know what to get _you_ for your bachelor party."

Steve waves her off. "Already did the whole fancy wedding thing once."

"So, what? That doesn't mean you can't have fun your second time around, does it?"

Steve shrugs. It's easier than explaining that the big double-bachelor party and the nice suits and the hordes of family were Robert's thing, not his. That he's gotten used to being alone. Maybe _too_ used to it. 

Besides, Vega is now mouthing the pole as he dismounts. He gives it one more caress as he finally leaves it and stalks towards Shepard. There's no way Shepard's just _talking_ to the dancer this time, Steve thinks, watching Vega climb onto Shepard's chair. Vega grips the back of the chair, hands on either side of Shepard's head, and undulates. Shepard's eyebrows are climbing towards her hairline. 

Steve says, "Think Shepard's going to kill us?"

"Give her a little credit! The Commander knows how to let her hair down now and then."

"If it involves shooting her way through a club, maybe. And…"

He trails off because Jimmy Vega has just put Shepard's hands on his generously filled-out thong. Steve holds his breath, not sure if it's because he's waiting for Shepard to throw Vega on his ass, or if he really wishes he were Shepard right now. Vega leans forward, murmuring something to Shepard--

\--and she laughs, shakes her head. Eases him down off the couch with two hands. Steve hears her say, in her Official Commander Shepard voice: 

"Thanks, but I'm taken." Glancing around herself, she catches Steve watching, and smiles. She indicates him to Vega with a tilt of her head. "But maybe my friends would be interested."

"Hey. Like I said earlier. A real shame." Vega grins and extends his hand to Shepard. "But seriously, Commander. It's been an honor."

Shepard gets up out of the chair and shakes his hand. "I appreciate your services, Mr. Vega."

"Anytime, _bella_." Vega knocks off a more-than-casual salute and turns towards Steve and Traynor. Steve can't help but wonder which one of them puts a brief, honest interest on Vega's face. Vega turns the expression into a full-fledged smirk as he nears them. 

Traynor chuckles when Vega heads for her first. Steve swallows his brief envy. 

"Boys aren't really my thing. Sorry."

Steve balks as Vega turns to him instead. Vega is entirely _too much_ his thing. 

"Thanks, but…" Steve shakes his head. Traynor elbows him, but he ignores her. 

"Sure, no problem." Vega shrugs. "I'll get the place cleaned up, yeah?" 

His entire demeanor changes; the slightly smarmy smile fades and his posture straightens so that he's no longer leading with his crotch when he walks. He retrieves the pieces of costume armor with a brisk efficiency and stacks them near the door. Steve swears he sees something military in the way Vega moves. 

"There's a story there," Traynor says, with more than a little interest. 

Steve nods. "Ex-merc, maybe?"

"Or marine? Quite the career change, I'd say." Traynor shifts her attention to Steve, eyebrows arched. "And you, what was that a moment ago? Weren't you just complaining about Shepard not taking advantage of the dancers? I know you were interested." 

Steve shrugs, trying to be nonchalant. "I don't know. With the Commander right there and all…"

"It's a bachelorette party. It's supposed to be uncomfortably lewd. Besides, I think Jimmy Vega likes you." She smirks. "I've never been with an exotic dancer, have you?" 

Vega's approach rescues Steve from having to answer. Back in his undersuit, Vega looks almost presentable, if Steve ignores his bared behind. "Hey," Vega says, and Steve starts to wonder if he starts every conversation with 'Hey'. It's sort of cute. "You guys still have half an hour of my time. You sure you don't want a dance?" He punctuates the question with a broad, honest grin. 

Steve can feel Traynor's eyes boring into the side of his face. And he is so very, very tempted, but he shakes his head again. Bachelorette party or not, after seeing Jimmy Vega's ‘real’ self, having the dancer's crotch grinding in his face doesn't seem right. 

"Not your type either?" Vega asks. He sounds regretful. Or Steve could be indulging in a little wishful thinking. He blames Traynor for putting the thought in his head. 

"Very much my type, I'm afraid." 

"Don't tell me, you're taken too."

"Once upon a time. Now, not so much." Avoiding Vega's eyes, Steve grabs two drinks off the tray of a passing waiter and offers one to Vega. Vega takes the drink with a nod. "Join us?" 

"Now we're the ones chatting up the dancers, are we?" Traynor murmurs.

"Must be getting old," Steve shoots back.

Traynor snorts. "Speak for yourself. If you'd invited a few of those asari from the main floor…"

"Maybe next time," Steve says. He looks back at Jimmy Vega and gestures to the empty space on the couch between himself and Traynor. Vega hesitates a moment, then drops down between them. 

Steve grins as the thick cushions sink under Vega's weight, tilting Steve into him, and Vega grins back, automatic. 

"Could use seats like this in the Kodiak," Steve says, mostly to Traynor, but it's Vega who answers, 

"Hell yeah. Those shuttle seats are so hard you can feel 'em clean through heavy armor!" 

Steve laughs despite himself. "They aren't _that_ bad!"

"No?"

"He does have a point, Steve." Traynor ignores Steve's dirty look. "Though I wouldn't have expected a dancer to have much experience with drop shuttles. Or heavy armor."

Vega is suddenly preoccupied with his drink, his grin growing fixed. Steve frowns at Traynor. She shrugs. Steve tries again. 

"So you know Shepard?" 

"Heard of her. But who hasn't?" Vega says. He follows the statement with a long drink. There's more there, Steve can see it in his face, but he doesn't say more and Steve doesn't want to push it. Steve sips at his drink for something to do, something to fill the awkward moment. 

"Suppose even Aria can't stop the Alliance rumor mill, huh?"

Vega shrugs. He's beginning to look like he regrets sitting down. He polishes off the rest of his drink in one huge gulp and studies the empty glass like he wishes it would either refill itself or give him an excuse to leave. 

Traynor asks, "So you were in the military?"

Vega stares into the glass. "Does it matter?" he says. "I'm here, now." 

"You were with the Alliance," Shepard says. She has a dancer hanging off her arm but a serious expression on her face. Jimmy Vega looks up at her and something like shame passes over his features. He gives a great shrug and rises to his feet. 

"Thanks for the drink, but I'd better beat it before Aria catches me putting away too many." He catches Steve's eye, salutes him with the empty glass before setting it down on a nearby table. " _Enhorabuena,_ Commander."

Steve glances over at Traynor and Shepard as Vega retreats. For a moment, he's afraid that the exchange is going to put a dampener on the whole evening. But Shepard shrugs, and says, grinning wickedly, "See what happens when you talk to the dancers, Cortez?" 

Steve's face grows hot as Traynor erupts into giggles beside him.


	2. Chapter 2

Traynor gives Steve a good teasing when she catches him heading towards the airlock the next day. "Going to see that pole dancer again, are you?" 

Steve considers lying, then concedes the truth. "Yeah. I can't seem to get him out of my head." He shrugs. "I don't know why. He's just some pretty boy who works for Aria."

"'M not sure that's what I'd call a 'pretty boy’." Traynor laughs. "But what do I know about men? I do know why you're going back, however. Even Shepard had something to say about his very fine…assets."

"That's not it," Steve says, but now he _is_ lying. Or at least half-lying. 

"Of course not." Traynor giggles. "But, he is curious, isn't he? Do you think it's true, what Shepard said, about him being Alliance? I suppose Liara could look it up."

Steve's cheeks grow warm. "I may have already taken a look myself."

Traynor raises an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

Steve leans over Traynor's console, calls up the record. She crosses her arms and studies it. "Well, well. How very nice to meet you, Lieutenant James Vega." She frowns. "He went AWOL?"

"Yeah. Right after he got his promotion to Lieutenant for a mission on Fehl Prime."

Traynor lowers her voice. "Shouldn't we…contact the authorities? Or at least tell Shepard?"

Steve blows air between his lips. "I don't know." 

Traynor looks uneasy. Steve understands; the thought that Vega might have deserted the Alliance right at the beginning of the Reaper War is not something he likes either. "Maybe not yet," Traynor says, dismissing the record. "Until we know more." She smiles. "There, that's your noble excuse to go see him. You just want to save the darling pole dancer from a fate worse than court martial. Not get him on his back and ride him into the--"

"Samantha," Steve protests, but he's laughing, and the tension dissolves. 

Traynor's teasing expression softens. "In all seriousness, Steve, it's good to see you interested in someone again. Even if it is a pole dancer." She gestures grandly towards the airlock. "Now go forth, white knight, and rescue yonder fair prince."

Steve escapes before she can come up with anything worse. 

#

Afterlife is jumping when Steve arrives, the din so loud it verges on oppressive. The music is at max volume and everyone is shouting to be heard. Steve thinks he spots some of the crew among the crowd, but it's impossible to be sure with so many people moving, dancing. It's likely, though. The Normandy will be docked here for another day or two while Shepard takes care of some business. Steve shakes his head. Shepard's always working, even when she should be celebrating. 

He hangs around the main floor first, but all the dancers there are asari. Down on the lower levels he sees a couple of human dancers, both female, and one drell that Steve finds both disturbing and appealing at once. No Jimmy Vega, though, and he's about to give up when he sees Shepard cutting her way through the crowd, headed straight for Aria's little alcove. 

Curious, he catches up to her. "Commander," he says, touching her elbow. She's frowning, but she turns it into a smile for him. 

"Steve. Enjoying yourself?"

"Yeah. You?"

She tilts her chin up towards the alcove. "Just need to take care of a few things." Steve follows her gesture, and sees Aria, and next to her, Jimmy Vega. Vega looks more like a bodyguard than a dancer today. He's wearing black light armor, and it looks real from where Steve is standing. He's scanning the area with his eyes, and his gaze lands on Steve; Steve hastily turns away. 

"You're going to arrest Jimmy Vega," Steve says, the realization hitting him like a punch in the gut. "Take him back to Earth."

Her eyebrows rise, as if to ask him how he knows what she's up to. He offers no explanation. Her mouth flattens out. "He's a deserter," she says. 

"Just AWOL."

"You two became pretty good friends in five minutes." 

Steve fumbles for something to say. He never likes being the focus of Shepard's anger; and she's right. He doesn't know Vega. Doesn't know anything about him other than he's an amazing pole dancer. For all he knows Vega walked away because he was a coward, because he couldn't bear to face the Reapers. Even so, he says, 

"C'mon, Commander. Can't we just look the other way? The war's over. I'm sure they had to deal with the Reapers here, too."

"And I'm sure he had a team of people who could have used him, a post that needed him."

"Maybe he got trapped here. There was-- The Illusive Man tried to take Omega over, didn't he? Maybe he got stuck fighting them. We don't know." When Shepard seems to genuinely consider this, he goes on: "At least let me talk to him. See if I can't get him to come with us voluntarily. That would be better than frogmarching him out of Afterlife in cuffs."

Shepard sighs. "I would've thought you above thinking with your dick, Lieutenant." But she smiles a little as she says it. "But yes. If he comes voluntarily--with a good story--maybe I'll find it in my heart to consider going easy on him."

Steve lets out a sigh of relief. 

"But we're only here for another three days. If he doesn’t come voluntarily by then, frogmarch it is."

He snaps his heels together and salutes her. "Yes ma'am. I'll do my best, ma'am."

She snorts and waves him off. "At ease," she says. "And Steve?"

He looks at her.

"Good hunting."


	3. Chapter 3

Steve has been hanging around the nearby bar for three hours, hoping that Vega will go off shift sooner or later. The three drinks he's had don't help his state of mind. This is stupid, he thinks, sticking his neck out for a man he doesn't know. What if Vega tells him to fuck off? Cuts and runs when he finds out that the Alliance is out for him? 

Robert would be laughing at him, right now. Robert always knew how he liked to wind himself up, overthink things, get too attached. Robert would've talked him down. 

Somebody touches Steve on the shoulder and he jumps. It's a turian, one with a white skull-face marked over its own. It jerks a thumb towards the back of the club. 

"Aria wants to see you."

"Me?" Steve's voice threatens to crack and he swallows down his embarrassment. The turian doesn't repeat himself, just marches back through the crowded dance floor, clearly expecting Steve to follow. Looking around, half-expecting to see Joker somewhere laughing at him, Steve trails after the turian. Sure enough, it stops at the foot of the stairway leading up to Aria's alcove. 

Steve's palms are sweaty and he wipes them on his pants. He's seen Shepard face down the Queen of  
Omega without blinking, but that's Shepard. Steve would prefer it if Aria had no clue he existed. Which has always been the case, until now. He doesn't know what's changed. 

Climbing up the stairs, he sees her on the couch, and Jimmy Vega standing nearby. He's still in his light armor, but not so formal now chatting with Aria. They laugh at something as Steve approaches. 

Steve clears his throat. "Aria? You, uh, you wanted to see me?"

Vega and Aria both look over, and their gazes are matching, dark and intent. Assessing. Aria snorts. "You're sure?" she asks, flicking a look at Vega. Vega nods. 

"You know me. I pay my debts."

Her mouth curls like a cat's but her eyes are humorless when she looks at Steve. "Have a seat, Alliance." When he hesitates, she half-laughs and says, "I only bite when somebody gives me a reason to."

Steve tries to sit as far away as is polite. Aria is even more terrifying up close, beautiful and alien, her presence so large it fills the entire alcove. Shepard once said that Aria started out on Omega as an exotic dancer, but Steve can hardly imagine it. Or maybe her ferocity was part of her appeal. 

She lazily gestures at the guard standing on the landing of the nearby stairs. "Well? Pirius? I said we wanted music."

"Lorek's gone up to the booth--"

And then Steve sees the brief flicker of a sound barrier go up around the alcove. The noises of the club beyond vanish, replaced by a throbbing beat. The lighted panels behind the couch dim. Steve finds himself lost in a pool of red light and shadows. 

Jimmy Vega steps in front of him.

Suddenly, Vega's presence fills the space almost as much as Aria's. Even in his light armor, he's all sex and power as he stalks towards Steve. But now that Steve knows his history--or some of it--he can see that soldier focus in his face. A man waiting for a killshot, plotting the best strategy to take an enemy down. He begins to unfasten the light armor with one hand, the other resting on the weapon at his side. It's real armor, this time, not the easy-to-remove show suit from the night before, and it takes him a little time to get out of it, but Vega knows his art: he keeps his dark, intense stare on Steve, removes each piece with a slow, teasing reveal. When he's down to the skintight undersuit, he peels out of it with a soft, silent sigh, lips parting, with the singular pleasure of a man who's been forced to live in his armor for far too long. 

Steve's heard that sigh often enough from Shepard or Kaidan or Jacob, but it's never made him _hard_ before. 

No thong, this time, just grey boxer-briefs. Steve feels the awkwardness return, recalling that fresh-faced, smiling young soldier in Vega's profile. If talking to the dancers is a lousy idea, what is it for Steve to look up the dancer's personal history?

The worst idea, Steve thinks, as Vega climbs onto the couch, straddling his lap. Steve presses back against the couch, looking over in confusion at Aria. Says, "Hey, um, ah, look, maybe you're mistaking me for somebody else--" but Aria only shakes her head and Vega silences him with a rough thumb against his lips. Automatically, Steve reaches for his hand, but Vega pushes him gently away.

  
  
Art by [DarkExperience](http://darkexperience.livejournal.com/1354.html)  


"You know the rules, boss," Vega murmurs. "I touch but you don't." His grin is wide, indulgent. Cocky. "Just sit back and enjoy the ride." 

Any further protests from Steve evaporate as Jimmy Vega lowers himself down into Steve's lap, his hips moving in slow circles as he sinks. He's every bit as beautiful and powerful as Aria. Steve holds his breath as Vega hovers just above his lap, rocking his body in time with the heady, slow thump of the music. As Vega laces his hands behind his head so Steve can admire the sculpted rise of his pecs. 

Steve lets out a slow, shuddering sigh, fingers digging into the couch cushion underneath him. The things he'd do to Vega's chest, if he ever had the chance. He makes himself think of the James Vega he found in the Alliance records. Fighter. Soldier. Deserter. 

Somehow that doesn't kill his hard on. It makes it worse. His thoughts veer off in inappropriate directions; directions involving Jimmy Vega and refresher courses on military discipline. As if Vega can read his thoughts, he picks that moment to turn around, raise himself up so that his ass is the only thing Steve can concentrate on. Rocks his body forward, as if he's being fucked from behind, as if he's fucking. Then he grinds down, never quite touching Steve's body, until Steve feels like his entire front is electric. Vega crouches, giving Steve another incredible view of his ass, of the swell of his balls cupped in grey fabric, framed by his thighs. Undulates in time to the music and Steve clenches his teeth together against a groan. Turns around and runs a hand over the front of his briefs, lets Steve watch as he strokes the obviously hard length of his cock through the fabric. Then he's sinking, sinking, again. 

Steve's breath sticks in his throat as their bodies finally make contact, the brush of Vega's ass against the tops of his thighs. Vega's hands are braced on the back of the couch behind Steve's shoulders, and it's all Steve can do not to turn his face, run his lips over those powerful forearms, slide his hands over Vega's biceps. Vega drops lower, pressing hard up against Steve now, against the obvious swell of his erection. Rocking his body back and forth, stroking Steve with his lower body. Steve's cheeks burn, his cock throbs. His fingers tighten on the couch until he thinks they might tear through the fabric. 

Vega shifts upwards again, this time dragging his front against Steve, putting one hand on the back of Steve's head, pushing Steve's face against the fever-hot rod of his cock. The smell of him is musky and good, sweat and the dust-dry smell of fabric, and soap. Steve can't help himself, he mouths Vega through the fabric, feels Vega stiffen and thrust once against his lips before he pulls away. 

"No touching," Vega says in a low voice, but he sounds breathless. Steve feels dirty for thinking that maybe Vega wants to fuck him as much as he wants to fuck Vega. Jimmy Vega's a dancer; this is just his job. To make hapless idiots like Steve tip generously. 

But then Vega is pressing against his lips again, rubbing and rocking, inviting more. Steve opens his mouth, kisses the swollen front of Vega's briefs, tastes synthetic cotton against his eager tongue. Somewhere in the back of his brain Steve knows this isn't how the dance is supposed to go, but he doesn't care, he raises his hands and cups Vega's ass, and--

"That's enough, Jimmy. I think you've said your thanks."

Vega laughs and slides off of the couch. Steve feels abruptly foolish. He forgot that Aria was sitting there, watching; that there was a bodyguard glowering at them from only a few feet away. But Vega's fingers trail against the side of his cheek, lessening the feeling. He struggles to regain his composure, sits up straighter while clearing his throat. Says, 

"Thanks?"

Aria looks at him like he's a dead rat on her couch, blinks, and turns away. "You can go," she says. The lights are coming up. Steve feels so hard he wonders if he can really stand up and walk away but he pushes himself off the couch. 

Jimmy Vega is stepping back into his undersuit. He doesn't look back at Steve. Confused, Steve rises. "I don't--" he starts to say, but Aria gestures to the bodyguard, who moves threateningly towards Steve. Steve blurts a thank you towards Vega, who never turns, and escapes before things can get any stranger.


	4. Chapter 4

Steve stops by the bar for one more drink, to fortify himself. To wash the pleasant taste of Jimmy Vega out of his mouth. A lapdance isn't exactly what he promised Shepard he would get from Vega. But he can try again tomorrow. 

An elbow catches him in the arm, jogs the drink so it spills all over his fingers. 

Steve turns to see Vega standing there, a big lopsided grin on his face. No less endearing for the scar that cuts from his lip down to his chin. Steve swallows the urge to touch it. To cover it with his own mouth. 

"Hey," Vega says, and stupidly, Steve hears himself echo,

"Hey."

Vega leans an elbow on the bar next to him, waves the bartender over. "Can I get you something?" he asks. Steve shakes his head. Vega orders a Batarian ale and a shot of tequila, dunks one into the other and downs both in one shot. Wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. His bottom lip is still damp and Steve wants to catch it in his teeth, lick it clean. Vega has a broad, full mouth, the kind Robert liked to say was ‘made for kissing’. Or for other things, when Robert was in a filthy mood.

"I'm off duty now," Vega says. 

From anyone else Steve would consider Vega's statement a come on. Maybe it is, but Steve still feels too wary and confused after the performance in Aria's alcove. "Big plans?" he says at last. 

"Hope so." This time Vega gives him a look that makes his intentions clear. Steve's feels a needy ache in his balls. But his traitorous mind insists he play the gentleman. 

"Look, Mr. Vega. The dance, and now this--Did I overtip after Shepard's party or something?" 

Vega laughs and shakes his head. "I just thought you might be interested. Unless I read you wrong. But I don't usually." He leans against the bar. His hands are big and rough, a working man's hands. He shrugs. "You know, I saw you talking to Commander Shepard earlier today." He pauses, studying his empty glass. "She was coming for me, wasn't she? To bring me back to Earth."

Steve can't make himself confirm or deny, but Vega isn't really asking, anyway. He knows. By the look on his face, he knows. Vega taps the bar and the bartender refills his glasses. He drinks them down just as fast as the first pair. "And then you talked to her and she left. So I owed you one."

"So that's why--the dance."

Vega nods. He signals the bartender again. "What did you say to her? Why didn't she come?"

Steve is torn. If he tells the truth, what if Vega flees? Shepard will be pissed. And well, he'll have his answer about what kind of man Jimmy Vega really is. To the everlasting regret of parts of his anatomy, to be sure. He opts for vagueness:

"I just said… maybe we needed to hear you out."

"And what, _guapo_? Let me guess." Vega's grin is disarming. "You're the one who's going to get the story out of me? How? Throw me on my back and bang the truth out of me?"

Steve flinches. "I…hadn't thought that far."

"Sure you hadn't. But I wouldn't mind." Vega leans both elbows on the bar and taps the bar again. Steve watches as the glasses are filled. But this time, Vega doesn't drink them both. He drops the tequila shot in the ale and pushes it towards Steve. Steve looks up, meets Vega's dark eyes. Takes the glass and throws it back, drinks every last drop. He slams the glass back down and shakes his head. 

"Jesus. Tastes like piss." 

"I know," Vega says, and laughs. "But gets you good and drunk, fast."

"So your plan is to smile and ply me with drinks and get me to pass out so you can take off before Shepard's any the wiser?" 

"Nah," Vega says. "Didn't really have a plan, actually. Just figured if you were drunk, it'd be easier to take advantage of you."

Steve looks up, ready to put Vega at arm's length again. And then Vega is on him, mouth to mouth, tongue on tongue. He tastes of the acrid tang of Batarian Ale, and something else, something dusky and faintly sweet. Vega pulls Steve's hands onto his ass and encourages him to squeeze. Grinds their hips together. 

Steve's trousers grow tight as his cock hardens. He feels ridiculous and giddy when Vega finally breaks their mouths apart, feels like a schoolboy after his first kiss, like he's been without oxygen too long. 

"You trying to distract me, Mr. Vega?" he gasps. Vega shrugs. 

"Why should I bother distracting you? Doesn't matter if I tell you my story or not," Jimmy Vega says, while Steve is still struggling to catch his breath. He moves his broad hands over Steve's belly, hooks his thumbs in the fastening of Steve's trousers. He meets Steve's eyes and shrugs. "I can't leave Omega. Unless I feel like dying."

Steve tries to figure out if Vega is kidding or not, but he can't tell. Finally, he says, "You mean Aria would put a hit out on you?"

Vega chuckles. He leans forward and puts a hand on Steve's knee. "What do you say we take this somewhere more private, _guapo_?"

"Look, I didn't stop Shepard to get some kind of favor from you…" Steve says.

Vega gets up. His fingers trail off Steve's knee and Steve can't help but want to grab his hand, bring it back. Bring it down, farther maybe, to the straining front of his pants. 

"You coming or not?" Vega asks, and then pushes his way into the crowd, threatening to vanish from Steve's view. 

Steve hastily launches off of the bar stool and hurries after Jimmy Vega, keeping his eyes on that broad back, on the thick neck with the climbing tattoos. Vega's like an icebreaker, the crowd parting to let him through. Steve follows in his wake, ignoring the resentful looks of several clubgoers as they pass by. 

The route to wherever Vega is taking them is filthy, infested with hissing vorcha clinging to the shadows. Vega sets his jaw when he sees them, like he'd rather be ripping their heads off. Steve is curious, but he doesn't ask; there's something dangerous in Jimmy Vega's eye when he looks like that. Something Shepard-like. 

"You were up for N7 training?" Steve asks, without thinking, and Vega whips around. For a half-second he looks distraught, but he covers it up with a snort and a smirk. 

"You looked me up. I'm touched." His sarcasm is softened by his divided attention; there's a group coming around the corner. 

Steve sees the Blue Suns armor first, then the batarian faces, and lastly, sees Vega go battle-ready. Not tense, but schooled, one hand falling back to the Predator at his hip.

The batarian at the head of the group makes a point of getting in Jimmy Vega's way. A muscle in Vega's jaw jumps and he halfway draws the Predator.

"Bolg." Vega's tone makes the batarian's name into an obscenity. 

The batarian smiles. "Looky here, boys. If it isn't Aria's little pet? What's wrong, dog, need a bone?"

Vega just stares the batarian down with his weapon half-drawn.

"Or maybe a finger up your ass?"

The other batarians snigger. The faintest flush of color creeps over Vega's cheeks and the bridge of his nose, making the scar there stand out. But his voice is level and hard when he speaks. "What I need is for you to get out of my way, _puto_."

"Now, boys, is that any way for a dog to speak to its master?"

The batarians snigger again, shaking their heads, making tutting noises. Vega never looks at them. He draws the Predator and aims it at Bolg's head. 

"Get the fuck out of my way," Vega says. 

Bolg just smiles wider, his four eyes practically dancing with glee. "Bad dog," he says. And then one of the batarians is bowling Vega over. He has time to get off a shot, but it's off target and Bolg's shields easily absorb it. 

Steve doesn't have a weapon on him but he launches himself at one of the batarians anyway, knocks the merc on his ass before another pounds him in the face and leaves him with a bloody nose. Steve falls back, colliding with something warm and solid. It's Vega, back on his feet, sending two batarians into a nearby wall with a massive one-two punch. Steve sees the weapons on the batarians' hips, wonders why they haven't pulled them as Vega rams another of the mercs into a pile of discarded shipping containers nearby. Steve laces his fingers together and swings his hands like a club onto the head of a batarian attempting to get up. The alien drops down to the ground, out cold. Steve doesn't even notice, too busy kicking the legs out from under another merc. 

  
  
Art by [DarkExperience](http://darkexperience.livejournal.com/1354.html)  


"Bad dog!" Bolg roars and brings up his omnitool. Steve hears the familiar chirr of tech firing. 

Vega screams. 

It's half a roar, but the pain in his voice is obvious. Steve spins. Sees Vega red-faced, the veins standing out in his neck and forehead, still struggling to wrestle one of the batarians to the ground. Steve rushes to help him and Vega screams again, releasing the batarian to grab at the back of his neck, Spanish profanities flying from his lips as freely as spittle. He curls downward even as the batarian kicks at him like a stray dog, catching him mid-chest. Steve charges the batarian and slams him into the wall, strikes him up under the chin with the heel of his hand. All four of the alien's eyes roll back in his head. 

Steve hears the click-whine of guns powering up. Finds them pointed at his head. 

Vega struggles to raise himself off the floor, still clutching the back of his neck. He faces the mercs' leader. " _Cabrón_ ," he snarls. His eyes are bloodshot. He glares at the batarian. A smile fights its way onto his lips. Steve can hear him fighting to regain his breath. "Aria and I wondered when you'd pull this shit."

The batarian looks surprised. "You knew?"

"Who the fuck else took it, _ojete_?" 

The batarian touches his omnitool and Vega jerks to the ground again, barely aborting another scream. He curls his hands into fists, pounds his knuckles into the ground before slowly pushing himself back into an upright position. Where Steve appreciated Vega's physique for purely aesthetic reasons before, he now appreciates the sheer strength in Vega's body as well. He can see Vega trembling with pain even from as far as he is, but the ex-soldier somehow keeps himself upright.

"You should be more respectful to me," the batarian says, "when I'm holding your leash, human."

" _Chinga tu madre_ ," Vega spits, and grinds his teeth together as the batarian jabs a thumb into his omnitool again. 

Steve is alarmed as blood dribbles out of Vega's nose, over his upper lip. But Vega only laughs. "Aria's going to fucking kill you, Bolg, and I'm going to laugh while she--" The rest of Vega's threat is lost in the strangled noise he makes as the batarian--Bolg--activates whatever program he has again. 

"Jimmy!" Steve starts forward. A batarian smashes Steve across the back of his skull with a pistol, leaves him bleeding and reeling. 

"I'm not worried about Aria," Bolg says. "But you will be, when she finds out you're working for me now."

"Like hell--" 

The batarian raises a hand over his omnitool and Vega freezes. Rage suffuses his face a moment later when he realizes what he's done; all the same, he doesn't attack Bolg. "And if you do a good enough job, Vega, I'll make you a deal. I'll cut your leash as long as you leave Omega and never come back."

"Bullshit," Vega says, but even Steve doesn't miss the brief hope there. 

Bolg laughs and dismisses his omnitool. "C'mon, boys. Let's give Mr. Vega a little time to think about my offer."

The mercs regroup and are gone almost as suddenly as they came. Steve rushes to Jimmy Vega's side, but the big man shoves him away. "Don't," Vega says, and gets to his feet. He sways and stumbles against a wall. Steve ignores his protests and pulls Vega's arm over his shoulders, helping him back up. 

"What the hell was that?" Steve asks, but Vega shakes his head. 

"Later," Vega says, hoarse. "My place. That way." He indicates a corridor with his chin. 

He's so heavy Steve is afraid he'll bring them both down, but they shuffle and stumble their way to Vega's door. After Vega unlocks it with his omnitool he slides, back to the nearby wall, into a sitting position in the corridor. 

"Home sweet home," Vega says. He gestures towards the door. And then he passes out.


	5. Chapter 5

Steve hovers over Vega for a while, shifting his weight from side to side, uncertain. When Vega doesn't wake, Steve takes a deep breath, hooks him under the arms and wrestles him inside the apartment. 

It's small, barely a room and a half and a bathroom. The scent of day-old cooking lingers in the air, warm and faintly sweet, smells that tug at Cortez's memory. Everything is military-tidy except for one chair where a tangle of clothes are draped over the back in silent defiance. Otherwise, boots are tucked neatly under the small folding table that seems to double as a dining table, and the bed is all taut sheets and sharply folded edges. There are no personal effects save for a pair of adjustable-weight dumbbells and a pull-up bar screwed into the far wall. 

There's no sign of Jimmy Vega, Pole Dancer, in this apartment.

Steve drags Vega over to the bed. It's no easy task; unconscious, Jimmy Vega seems to have tripled in weight. Steve keeps expecting him to come gasping awake, but whatever the batarians did to him has exacted a heavy toll. At last, he gets Vega onto the mattress, tugs the covers up over him. 

Vega groans and rolls over onto his side. He doesn't wake up. 

Steve's gaze is drawn to the back of Vega's neck, the top of his spine. There's a slim dark shadow there, just under the skin. Holding his breath, Steve reaches out and touches Vega there, feels a hard lump. 

Vega sighs and shudders. Steve hastily takes his hand away.

"Mr. Vega. Jimmy," he calls, softly. But Vega remains unconscious. Uncertain whether he should stay or go, Steve stands there a moment, wondering if he ought to let Shepard know, or maybe Aria. 

There's dried blood crusted over Vega's upper lip, so Steve wets a towel in the kitchen and uses it to dab the blood away. As he gets the last of the blood, Vega stirs. He grabs Steve's wrist. His eyes are still closed but his lashes flutter, fighting the good fight against unconsciousness. 

"It's okay, Mr. Vega. It's just me, Steve."

Vega grins. There's blood in between his teeth, from his nose, or maybe he bit his lip at some point. "Nice...to hear...your name…at last," he rasps, and Steve realizes, with some chagrin, that he never formally introduced himself at any point in the evening. Vega's eyes open just a crack. They're bloodshot. " _Gracias, Esteban._ "

"I--" Steve gropes through the pockets in his pants. "I've got medi-gel."

Vega nods. Swallows with a dry click. He sighs with relief as Steve applies the gel to the worst of his wounds. 

"Feel like I got run over by a M29 Grizzly." He gasps between every other word. 

"Look like it, too," Steve jokes. He's glad to see Vega grin again. 

"Always loved that beast."

Steve smiles despite his concern. "Man, you really must feel like shit. You're talking nonsense."

Vega laughs, then winces. "Don't tell me... You're some sort of flyboy."

"Been looking in _my_ record, Mr. Vega?"

Vega grimaces. "You'll never make me confess."

Steve fusses with the dirtied towel, folding it and unfolding it. "What the hell happened back there, Mr. Vega?"

Vega drops his head back against the pillow. Closes his eyes again, as if he can wish the question away. When he finally responds to Steve, he gives no answer: "You don't have to stay."

"Right," Steve says. "Forget I asked." He turns and heads for the kitchen. Rinses out the towel before hanging it over the tap to dry. When he returns to Jimmy Vega to say goodbye, Vega is lightly dozing. Steve quietly heads for the door. 

But just as he's standing in front of the exit, trying to sort out how to lock the door behind him, Vega speaks up. 

"Leash. It's called a leash."

Steve turns. 

Vega's still on his back, still not meeting Steve's eye. He looks grim and exhausted. "Slaver rig," he says. "Sticking me with one was Aria's idea of a joke. Sort of."

Steve frowns. "That doesn't sound funny to me." 

Vega shrugs. "Maybe you had to be there. She and I didn't exactly get along when I first started...working for her." Vega looks at Steve at last. "I've done a lot of shit I'm not exactly proud of since I got on Omega. Put one foot down my Pa's fucked up road. I'm kind of lucky Aria hauled me up short."

Steve's frown deepens. "I'll take your word for it."

"Thanks." Vega beckons with one hand. "Hey. _Lo siento._ "

Steve shakes his head. "Which means…?"

"Means 'I'm sorry'," Jimmy Vega says, "that this evening didn't end how you were picturing."

"How would you know what I was picturing?" But Steve approaches the bed. "You're on your back, moaning, aren't you?"

Vega chuckles. "You Alliance types. You're all fucking bent." 

"You're Alliance too."

"Not anymore." Vega looks over at Steve with such a mix of longing and resentment that Steve doesn't know what to say. 

Finally he manages, "Do you hate the Alliance? Is that why you left?"

The muscles in Vega's jaw jump and twitch. "I don't hate the Alliance. I just..." He shakes his head. "…had a crisis of faith. Or several. I don't know." His hand fists in the sheets. "Didn't mean to go AWOL, I just...ended up on Omega. Played a few games of cards. Kept on playing after my leave was up. Right up till Bolg and his fucking batarian buddies started talking smack about Shepard and I had to kick their asses."

"Shepard?" Steve blinks, surprised. 

Vega's cheeks redden a little. "Yeah. Always looked up to her." His shrug is slightly challenging: _so what._ "The bullshit they were saying... Man, you would've understood. But I straightened them out. Introduced them to some of the furniture." He looks proud. And he's right; Steve does understand. "Aria was pissed. Bolg was one of her guys. But she was more pissed that I had busted up some couch she imported from Thessia."

Steve chuckles. "Priorities."

"Yeah, I know, right? Anyway. I said I'd pay her back. No problem. She said since I cost her a bodyguard, I could take his place till he was back on his feet. I said sure, why not. I dunno. I should've played it straight, done my time. But I got in a few more fights. A lot more fights." He smiles ruefully. "Aria told me to shape up, but I didn't give a shit. That's when she stuck me with this." He gestures at his neck. "And then she told me if I liked dancing so much, I should start dancing for her. She zapped me until I caved." 

Vega snorts, his mouth going lopsided. Steve keeps silent, thinking of Vega's recent agony and not trusting himself to say the right thing.

"Don't know who was more surprised, her or me, when I turned out not to be complete shit at it. She had her girls teach me some tricks and I ended up making her very happy. And maybe I got a kick out of it too. Everybody looking at you. Kind of a rush, you know?" 

Steve stares. He says, with some surprise, "You like Aria." 

"She's a hardass, but she's not so bad. Like I said, the leash thing was half a joke."

Steve doesn't manage to hide his frown this time. "I'm still not finding it funny."

"Things are different here on Omega. Working for Aria." Vega shrugs. "She only ever used the leash that once, to make me dance. Never used it like that fucker Bolg just did. And after I helped her keep Cerberus out of this place, she was gonna remove it." 

Steve indignation on Vega's behalf is momentarily derailed. "Cerberus? On Omega?"

"Yeah."

"What did they want with this hellho--station?"

Vega laughs. "Call it like it is, _guapo_. They wanted the Omega relay, of course, and a little base they had on the other side."

"And you stopped them." Steve shakes his head, grinning with admiration. "Mr. Vega, you're something else."

"Aria and I stopped them. And I had a lucky break. Caught this Cerberus Colonel trying to jack us all while they had Aria off the station. I put him down before he could call the Illusive Man." Vega mimes taking a couple shots and grins. "They still almost beat us. But we got the mercs all behind Aria, for once, and drove them off the station. Blew up that base of theirs for good measure." Another nonchalant shrug. "Helped Aria keep the Reapers out, too, until Shepard wiped them out."

Steve shakes his head. "She's lucky you were around."

"Yeah," Vega laughs, and Steve is irrationally pleased to see the flash of his old irreverence. "She was."

"You probably saved us a lot of trouble, too," Steve says. "Shepard should hear this. Maybe we can use it, when we talk to the Alliance--"

Vega says nothing. Steve kicks himself for bringing up the Alliance again. He hastily changes topics. "You don't think Aria gave the...'handle' to Bolg? To keep you working for her?"

Vega's face darkens. "I wondered, sometimes. But not after today. Besides, she fired Bolg and some of his guys when they turned chickenshit and ran after a Reaper attack. They tried to bullshit her about it, but I saw them go. Bolg's hated me pretty much since day one, but now he _really_ hates me."

Steve nods. "What do you think he wants from you now?"

"Who knows?" Vega says, angry. "To see me screaming on the floor? To suck his dick? I don't know and I don't really give a shit."

"Maybe Shepard can help you."

The expression returns, that combination of hope and fear, longing and resentment. As if Jimmy Vega's been on Omega so long that getting help from Shepard--from the Alliance--is both the worst and best thing he can think of. But in the end, Vega turns away, stares at the ceiling instead. 

"I can deal with this." When he looks back at Steve, his eyes are hard. "Look. Thanks again for helping me out, _guapo_. But I can handle this. I'd offer to finish what I started, but... even the hair on my balls hurt."

The brief moment of trust between them is gone, the air in the room suddenly awkward. Better to go now, Steve thinks. He can explain to Shepard. Maybe when she hears, she'll go easy on Vega. Maybe even help him deal with things, even though he says he doesn't want help. 

"All right," he says. "Take care of yourself."

" _Adios_ ," Vega says. "That means..."

"I know that much Spanish," Steve says. And then, on impulse, he leans forward. He means to just brush his lips against Vega's cheek. Friendly, chaste. But Vega turns his head. Intercepts him, mouth to mouth. At first their lips are closed, innocent, and then they part, and Steve loses himself in Vega again, kisses him until his mouth feels raw, until he can hear his heart hammering in his ears, till his cock is hard as a rock. 

Only then does Vega pull away, flashing his broad grin. "See you," he says, and Steve nods, retreating. 

He can't help but wonder if that's true; if he really will see Vega again.


	6. Chapter 6

Steve has every intention of going straight to Shepard when he returns to the Normandy. But he doesn't find her in the CIC or on the crew deck, and he ends up down in the shuttle bay, distracted by a little well-intentioned research. 

"You have been searching on Batarian 'leashes' for nearly two hours, Steve. Is it your intention to become a slaver?"

EDI's voice startles Steve's attention away from the shuttle bay terminal. "No! I uh--. EDI. Right. I forgot you could--." He stops himself from hastily clearing the search. There's no point: it's not her physical body, currently standing behind him, that really 'sees' what he's been up to. "You know it isn't really nice to go snooping on other people's extranet searches."

He turns to face her. As human as her face looks, EDI's expressions are decidedly her own. She has a better poker face than Garrus. "We have been docked at Omega without event for nearly fifty hours and Jeff has been preoccupied by the information that Garrus's bachelor party was not as... 'interesting' as Commander Shepard's."

"Boredom is no excuse for snooping, EDI," Steve says, but there's no real severity in his voice. He has a soft spot for EDI, might even be accused of indulging her ever since they nearly lost her to whatever Shepard did to the Reapers. And even though he knows it wasn't her body at the time, he still has vaguely guilty feelings over the missing 'flesh' on her right arm and leg--it was his crazy blind shots at Eva Core's escaping shuttle that brought it down and led to the damage of the android body. "Look, if I tell you, will you promise to keep it quiet? "

"I have become quite good at 'keeping secrets'," EDI says. Her shapely red lips pull wider, an approximation of a smile. 

Steve lets out a breath. He trusts EDI; she's been a good friend to him, talking to him many a long shift spent alone in the shuttle bay. "A... A friend is in trouble. He's got one of these leash things stuck in him."

"I see. And by 'friend’ am I correct in assuming you are not obliquely referring to yourself?"

Steve smiles, slightly. "You are correct." His smile falters, fades. He sighs. "I've been trying to find out if there's some way to help my friend, but... everything I think of seems to end up with him dead. Try to cut the leash implant out, it goes kablooey. Try to hack it, kablooey. Heck, fall too hard on it and kablooey." He shakes his head. "It's pretty nasty tech."

"Certainly. Originally developed by the salarians as a possible means of controlling the krogan. Its effectiveness is no doubt why the batarian slavers continue to manufacture and implement the use of such a device despite its ban on the Council worlds."

"Yeah. So far the only option seems to be to get the 'handle'--the controller module--back from the batarian who has it right now. But I can't kill him in the process, because, well..."

"'Kablooey'," EDI supplies, and Steve nods again. She crosses her arms and tilts her head, almost birdlike. "Perhaps you can duplicate the control module. If you do not have the skills, perhaps Shepard could recruit the assistance of Kasumi Goto or Tali'Zorah."

"I..." Steve hesitates. "I don't know if we have that kind of time. That batarian, he's up to something. And Shepard…" 

He doesn't know how to finish his sentence. He trusts Shepard more than anyone in the universe. 

"Your reluctance to accept assistance is unlike you, Steve. I have seen similar behavior in other members of the crew, most often when they wish to impress another."

Steve's cheeks go nuclear. "I--what? No. I mean. There's no one to impress." But now that EDI has said it, Steve has the creeping feeling that she's right. He gave up so quickly on asking for Shepard's help because some part of him wants to sweep in and save Jimmy Vega. Something he isn't sure Vega would even want. 

"I understand your desire, Lieutenant. I have on occasion performed unauthorized maneuvers to remind Jeff that I am no simple AI." EDI crosses her arms and tilts her head. "Perhaps instead of attempting to hack the leash implant or duplicating the handle device, you could assume control of handle itself. A cursory examination of available schematics for leash technology suggests that the control module is much less aggressively protected than the leash implant itself. Outside of monitoring the life signs of the wearer and prevention against physical theft, there are few safeguards. The batarian designers may not have anticipated their slaves ever having access to high-level intrusion technology."

"I guess that's pretty unlikely," Steve says. "But I don't have access to high-level intrusion technology either."

"That would be me, Lieutenant Cortez." EDI sounds almost gleeful. "And you have access to my assistance. If you are not continuing to go into this as a…lone gunman."

"Lone…? EDI, remind me to have a talk with Joker about what kind of slang he's teaching you." But Steve laughs, despite himself. "So, what do we have to do to pull this off? Find some excuse to introduce Bolg to a very sexy lady?"

EDI seems to consider this. "That might be amusing, but unnecessary." She pauses, looking away a moment, and then nodding at him. "I have created a remote access point via your omnitool. I can launch an intrusion so long as you are within two metres of the handle device."

Steve looks doubtful. "That's pretty close." 

"You will have to find some excuse to make conversation."

"Or get my ass kicked."

"That would be the less preferable option, but it would suffice so long as you remain within two metres of the device. I will require a minimum of three minutes to complete the intrusion."

"Right." Steve sighs, and then nods. "Do you need me to alert you when I'm close by?"

"Unnecessary. I will monitor your situation via your omnitool's built-in mechanisms."

"OK. Got it." Steve smiles. "And thanks, EDI."

"You are most welcome, Lieutenant. This promises to be most… exciting."

Steve's smile fades. "For you, maybe. As long as we don't screw this up."

EDI's cool hand rests on his shoulder. "We will not."


	7. Chapter 7

The good thing about mercs, in Steve's opinion, is that they all have the same motivator. When his initial inquiries as to where he might find Bolg are less than successful, a few thousand credits in the hands of a pair of suddenly-eager-to-cooperate Blue Suns improve his results. 

"Your desire to impress this Mr. Vega must be quite intense," EDI comments via his comm. "That was a substantial sum for so little information." 

"Yeah, yeah," Steve mutters. "Robert used to laugh at me whenever we hit up the night markets on Pentarus Prime."

There are no territories on Omega that Aria T'Loak doesn't control, but there are some that are less under her sway, and one is the gambling den in the Kima District. Steve makes his way down to the den and lays out another hefty sum to join a game of batarian Gesshtok. He doesn't have the first clue how to play, so he's grateful when EDI informs him of the rules over their private channel. He's actually up a hundred credits--beginner's luck--when Bolg finally shows up and sits down at a game of asari Kandry. Steve doesn't recognize him at first, but the other players greet him by name. 

"You will need to get closer, Lieutenant Cortez," EDI says. 

"I know," Steve mutters. He glances at his Gesshtok tokens and reluctantly knocks them all over. "I fold."

"Collapse your stronghold," EDI says, and Steve hastily corrects himself.

"Collapse your stronghold. My. Sorry." 

The other players--all batarians--make disparaging noises. Relieved, Steve thinks, that the stupid human doesn't know the rules and has withdrawn before he can win. He stretches, pockets what chits he has left and strolls to the bar. Buys himself a drink before approaching the poker table. 

"Spectators aren't welcome here," one of the players, a turian, says. "Buy in or go away."

Bolg looks up as Steve sits in the empty seat next to him. Steve's insides freeze. He hopes that Bolg won't recognize him. He can't tell most batarians apart; why should Bolg be any different? Maybe four eyes don't mean any better racial recognition. 

He's grateful when Bolg's eyes slide over and past him. 

"How much to buy in?" he starts to ask, when someone else approaches the table. 

"Bolg." 

Steve's heart stutters. It's Jimmy Vega. Steve doesn't know whether to look up or keep his head down. In the end it's automatic, his upwards glance, and with the worst sort of luck he manages to meet Vega's gaze directly.

Vega's eyes widen and his mouth snaps shut. Anger flits over his face, and then confusion. Steve tries to shake his head just the barest bit. If Vega registers it, he gives no sign.

Bolg stands up. "Well, well. You came crawling to me after all, dog." He leaves his chair, approaching Vega. 

EDI protests in Steve's ear: "Bolg is out of range."

Vega's eyes don't leave Steve even as Bolg closes in on him. Steve is desperate to get up, to pursue Bolg, to explain himself to Vega, but if he gets up now Bolg is sure to know he's up to something and he'll lose any future chance to try again. If all goes well, Bolg will sit back down at the card table, and EDI will have her three minutes and more. 

"I just came to play cards," Vega says, finally looking at Bolg. "But now I'm not in the mood. Too many shitty players here tonight. Cheaters and liars."

Steve can't help but flinch, afraid that Vega's talking about him. Bolg reaches for his omnitool, but Vega shakes his head. "You really want to do that here? Go ahead."

Steve is surprised when Bolg looks around himself. He wonders what Bolg sees that he doesn't, when Bolg lowers his hand. 

"I won't wait forever for your answer," Bolg growls. 

Vega shrugs. "Here's your answer. No. I don't work for anyone other than Aria." He glances at Steve, as if to direct those words at him too. "And she knows that."

Bolg's eyes narrow. "Is that what you think?" 

"That's what I know." Vega turns on his heel, military-sharp, and marches out. Bolg snarls and, a moment later, throws his Kandry cards down and leaves, too. Steve wavers between staying and going; if the other players know Bolg, they might know him well enough to remark on the new player who was so obviously tailing him. But two others make off to get a drink, and the last pair are busy gossiping about what just happened. Steve takes his chance to abandon the table relatively unnoticed. 

When he gets out into the corridor, Bolg is long gone. He mutters a curse. Vega's gone too, of course. Steve sighs. So much for sweeping in and playing the hero; James Bond he is not. He practically slinks down the corridor in the direction of the Normandy.

"What the hell, Esteban?" 

Steve stops short. Vega emerges from a shadowed doorway. Steve is impressed again by how the big man can move so gracefully. Panther-like. Then Vega raises his Predator and points it at Steve's head. 

"I can explain." Steve raises his hands, just in case. 

"You damn well better, _pendejo_."

"I'm not working with Bolg, if that's what you're thinking."

Vega says nothing, only watches him with those dark, intense eyes. 

"I'm just trying to help you. I swear."

"Told you," Vega says. "I don't need your help." 

"If we could go somewhere private..."

Vega's eyes flick up and down, assessing and dismissing Steve. "Knew better than to get mixed up with Alliance types again. But stupid me, I had to meet the great Commander Shepard. Fucking _estúpido_. And then you…" His wide mouth sets in a hard line. "I don't need you to save me, _guapo_. I can't be saved. Don't you get it? It's too fucking late for me. So go play the hero to some other lost lamb." He shakes his head. "Or do me a favor and have Shepard come arrest me." He laughs, a bitter, angry laugh. "Go out the way my papa expected me to, in shame and irons. But quick, at least. There's that."

"Mr. Vega…"

Vega glares at Steve. "Why do you call me that? Mr. Vega? Like I'm somebody you respect. Enough bullshit games. I know what I am to you. A pole dancer you got a boner for."

"I do respect you, Mr. Vega."

"Yeah, right."

"Why's that so hard to believe? You earned Aria's respect, didn't you? Helped her hold off Cerberus _and_ fought the Reapers. That's worthsomething in my book." Jimmy Vega's eyes narrow, but he doesn't stop Steve. "Not to mention you survived that op on Fehl Prime when nobody else did, and you were up for the N7 program. I mean… that sounds like the kind of guy I'd respect. One I'd like to know more about, if you'd let me."

For a moment, Steve thinks he might have found the chink in Jimmy Vega's armor, but then Vega counters, "You want to know more? I went AWOL. No, why pretty it up? I deserted my post. I got a fucking commendation when my entire squad died for useless bullshit intel that Commander fucking Shepard never needed to stop the Collectors, so I started playing cards and decided I was never going back. And I never went back. Is that enough? Do you want to know more? Do you want to know how I've killed people for Aria, how I've beat the shit out of helpless morons who owed her? How she liked to watch me lick her boots while she asari mindfucked me? How much I liked it?" He's practically snarling now, backing Steve against the opposite wall. "You know that thing Bolg said, about the finger, you could ask him about that. See if you respect me then, Esteban. How I was fucked up on red sand and I--"

"Enough," Steve says. He takes a risk, grabs Vega's hand holding the Predator and pulls it closer, until it's touching his forehead. "Enough. Shoot me with that thing or put it down. I can't listen to you while you're waving it in my face."

Jimmy Vega blinks, caught off guard, and then lowers the weapon. 

"I know what Omega does to people," Steve says. "I have a friend--"

Vega shakes his head. "No. Don't blame it on Omega. Don't make excuses for who I am. For what I am. This is me, Esteban. Ugly as fucking sin."

It's Steve's turn to look Vega over, but he doesn't dismiss Vega when he's done. He half-laughs. "If you could see what I see…"

"I know what you see. It's what I make people see. It's my job."

"I'm not talking about Jimmy Vega, pole dancer," Steve says. "Though he's pretty beautiful, if you ask me. When I look at you, I see the man who has Aria's back despite everything, who held off Cerberus and the Reapers, who just told Bolg to stuff it. I see Lieutenant James Vega. A good man. A hero.

Vega's laugh is sad. His eyes find the floor, and don't meet Steve's again. "Haven't you heard a word I've said?" He shakes his head. "You can't save me. James Vega is dead. He died on Fehl Prime."

"I don't believe you," Steve says. When Vega doesn't deck him or walk away, he goes on. "No matter what you say. I can help you, Mr. Vega. James. Let me help you." 

He takes a gamble and seizes Vega's hand. It's big and rough and callused. Not the hand of a pampered showman, but a soldier, a fighter. Vega looks down at their joined hands. He blinks.

Hope, real hope, crosses Vega's face. So raw and honest it makes Steve's guts twist. But it's quickly buried by something Steve can't read. Steve teeters on the narrow ledge between hope and despair. He doesn't dare say anything.

Then Vega drops his hand. Turns from him and starts walking down the corridor. Steve's heart plummets. 

"Mr. Vega, wait--" 

Vega pauses. Looks back over his shoulder at Steve. "You coming or not?" he says. 

"Yeah," Steve says, smiling, and hurries to catch up.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes a **NSFW** image.
> 
> Thanks to Paragonred for the Spanish fix :)

Vega takes them back to his apartment, where Steve fills him in on EDI's plan. "So I've just got to find a way to stick close to him for three minutes," he says, as Vega refills his coffee. 

"And you really think it'll work, hacking in like that?"

"My friend is very good," Steve says. He hasn't let Vega in on who--or what--EDI really is, but he figures they can deal with that later. "We already managed a partial hack earlier." 

"And then I showed up." Vega's grin is disarming, but Steve is beginning to see through Vega's fronts. 

"It's no big deal. We'll get another chance."

"Pretty clever of you, Esteban. This whole thing." Vega salutes Steve with his empty coffee cup. But he doesn't say anything else. He gets up, picking up the coffee pot. Steve trails after him into the little kitchen. 

"So do you know Bolg's movements? Like patrol routes, that sort of thing? Or if he might be back at that card game?" 

Vega rinses out the coffee pot and leaves it in the sink. Steve can't tell if his silence is thoughtfulness or not.

"The sooner we can catch up with him, the better. The Normandy will only be here another day." 

"And then I never see you again?" 

Steve shrugs, keeping his face neutral. "If that's what you want. But hopefully free of your leash."

Vega wipes his hands on his trousers and looks up at Steve. "Bolg's Blue Suns unit has guard duty by the lower level entrance to the Afterlife." He chuckles and shakes his head. "Aria loved the idea of Bolg being forced to play bouncer to the vorcha. You could probably plant yourself and a drink in the inner corridor by the door."

"Good. Great! We should--"

Vega catches him by the belt and hauls him in close. Steve's breath sticks in his throat as their faces come within kissing distance. Vega grins. 

"We should get going," Steve says, trying to keep his cool. 

"He won't be there for another good two, three hours. We got time to kill, boss. And I can think of a few nice ways to kill it." Vega closes the last bit of distance between them and captures his mouth. Steve loses all thoughts of hacking and omnitools and leashes for a moment as Vega's tongue slides aggressively against his. 

Recovering his self-control, he laughs awkwardly and, with not a little regret, pushes Vega back. "I don't know--"

Vega lifts an eyebrow and laughs. "You don't know?" He rolls his hips so that Steve can feel his interest, can feel his own interest hardening in his pants. "Come on, Esteban. You've wanted this since Shepard's little party. Admit it." 

"I do. And that's the problem. I don't want this to get…complicated."

"What's complicated?" Vega leans in, nuzzling Steve's neck. Latches on and sucks the soft, stubbled skin of Steve's throat hard enough to leave a hicky. "I want to say thanks."

Steve swallows a moan. "That's the other problem. Mr. Vega. I meant what I said. I'm not doing this to get laid."

"But if it gets you laid, so what?" Vega's fingers wrap around him through his trousers, and begin rubbing. Half of Steve's brain vehemently agrees with Vega; but the other half, the half studiously repeating his mother's lectures on gentlemanly behavior, continues to protest. "I like you, Esteban. I want this. _Quiero cogerte._ "

The roll of Spanish off of Vega's tongue sends a jolt through Steve straight down to his cock even though he doesn't have the first clue what Vega's saying. And then Vega's kneeling, going down in front of Steve, kissing a trail down Steve's body as he shifts himself. His mouth ends over the bulge of Steve's hard on, his breath warm and damp even through the thick fabric. Steve's resistance wavers. 

Vega looks up at him. His mouth quirks, as if he can tell it takes every bit of self-control Steve has not to grab him by the back of his neck and press him back against his cock. "So?" he asks. "Can I say thanks?" His tongue flashes across his bottom lip and Steve's fingers twitch. To be inside that mouth… 

"Yeah," Steve says. "Yes. Please."

Without hesitation Vega unzips the front of Steve's trousers and eases him out. Steve leans back against the nearby counter, bracing himself on both hands, shuddering at the feel of Vega's rough, strong hands on him. How long has it been, since Steve has let himself have this? Since Robert was taken from him he's done more than he ever expected to, helped save the world and almost everything in between, but not this.

"You look good, Esteban," Vega murmurs, and Steve doesn't know how to answer, feels awkward and clumsy-tongued. 

"You too," he manages. But Vega's already leaning forward, places a kiss on the fiercely red tip of Steve's cock. Tongues the slit, lapping up the wetness beginning to dribble there. Kisses his way down the greater vein on the underside of his cock and then back. Steve does groan this time, unable to tear his eyes away from the beautiful sight of Jimmy Vega worshipping his dick. 

Vega rubs Steve against his lips, mouth just barely parted, teasing him. Takes him inside, just a little, just a half-centimeter into that wet heat. Vega makes this simple act almost as much of a show as any dance. 

Steve fights against the twitch of his hips. He slides one hand along the curve of Vega's skull, the short-short hair there soft-prickly against his palm, cups the back of Vega's head in one hand and trembles with the urge to push Vega down, to push deep inside of him. 

And then Vega is sinking over his cock, sucking him all the way down, deeper and deeper in one smooth motion. Steve moans, just watching him, watching his cock disappear into Vega. Vega's nose presses against his belly and Vega's throat tightens around him and Steve almost loses it, almost comes too early like this is his first time, like nobody's ever sucked him off before. His control slips and he rocks his hips, thrusts hard and fast a half-dozen times into Vega before he can stop himself, before he eases the hand on Vega's head and stutters, 

"Sorry--God--sorry." 

Vega eases back, laughs against his cock. 

"You don't have to go easy on me," he murmurs, looking up at Steve. " _Me gusta fuerte._ I like it rough."

Steve half-laughs himself. "Are you for real, Jimmy Vega?"

"You tell me," Vega says, and deepthroats him again, this time moving with Steve's earlier rhythm, fast and tight and wet. His head bobs in Steve's lap. One big hand rises up to wrap over Steve's still wrapped on the back of his skull, urging Steve to set the pace. When Steve obliges, he feels as much as hears Vega's low groan. Feels Vega's body rock and sees Vega rubbing himself with his other hand, through his pants, and then inside of them, hand working faster and faster in the gap of his open fly. Steve tries to match him, thrusting harder and faster into Vega's mouth, getting closer, fingers digging into Vega's scalp. A soft hissing breath escapes him as he tries to hold himself back--

\--and then Vega is moaning, letting Steve slip free of his mouth, pumping one fist over Steve's cock. The cool air on Steve's damp, overheated skin is sweet torture as he watches Vega hunch down and shudder, watches Vega come hard into his own hand. The sheer gorgeous sight of it and the guttural, desperate noises Vega makes as he comes are enough to tip Steve over the edge, too: he jerks, thrusting twice more into Vega's fist, before spilling over. Vega doesn't miss a beat; still gasping, he turns his face, brushes Steve's spasming cock with his lips, lets Steve come over his mouth and cheeks and chin. 

"Jesus," Steve groans, as Vega kisses his oversensitive flesh. "Holy shit, James. Shit." 

  
  
Art by [DarkExperience](http://darkexperience.livejournal.com/1354.html)  


Vega licks his dirtied mouth, wipes his face clean with one big hand and sucks on his slicked thumb. His broad mouth curves. "I'm not done saying thanks yet, boss." 

"Do I get the chance to say 'you're welcome'?"

Vega grins. "Looking forward to it," he says, before dragging Steve down to the kitchen floor.


	9. Chapter 9

Steve jerks awake in a tangle of unfamiliar bedclothes. He struggles to focus on the set of weights across the room, on the unpainted metal walls. EDI's voice is in his ear, urgently repeating the words that summoned him out of sleep. 

"Steve. Lieutenant Cortez. Your immediate attention is required."

He groans and rubs a hand across his eyes. "EDI? What is it?" 

"Someone attempted to download the intrusion module I installed on your omnitool approximately fifteen minutes ago."

Steve sits up. The narrow bed barely fits him; there's certainly no Jimmy Vega wedged beside him any longer. "Vega?"

"He is the most likely culprit." 

Steve swings his feet over the edge of the mattress. The floor is ice-cold. 

"I have been monitoring your omnitool in case you came into proximity of Bolg again. I lengthened the interval of the check once I determined that you were…remaining stationary for some time."

Steve's face goes hot. "Thanks, EDI." He hurriedly gathers his clothes together. "Can you get a fix on where he is now?"

"I am reviewing stationwide communications as we speak." There's a brief pause, and then she says, "Mr. Vega passed through the district checkpoint B six minutes ago. It is likely he is headed to Afterlife."

"He's going to confront Bolg himself!" Steve curses. "That--That over-proud, thickheaded idiot!"

"It is unlikely that he is aware that the module merely permitted me access to Bolg's omnitool."

Steve yanks the zipper up the front of his suit more roughly than he needs to; it sticks and he curses again. "And if he uses it? Can you get in through his omnitool?"

"Theoretically, yes. However, I do not know how complete the download was. In addition, I am showing that he communicated with Aria thirty-four minutes prior. They may have devised an escape tactic of their own. However, an assessment of Aria's known intrusion capabilities and Mr. Vega's own lack of technical prowess leads me to calculate a high likelihood that their attempt will end in failure."

"How much failure are we talking here?"

"Termination of the leash wearer."

"Shit," Steve says. He steps into his boots and rushes to the doorway. "Can you give me the fastest route back to the main station?"

"I am transferring a route to your omnitool." EDI pauses, and then adds, "Lieutenant. Perhaps now is a good time to inform Shepard of the situation." 

Steve pauses. Then, shaking his head at himself, he says, "Yeah. Let her know, will you? I'm going after Vega."

He heads out the door without waiting for her response. 

#

It's primetime on Omega, residents crowding the tumbledown markets and cheap gin joints on the lower levels. Steve catches up to Jimmy Vega just outside one of the lower level entrances to Afterlife, but there's a ship's-worth of people between them. Steve only marks Vega by his trademark haircut. The ex-soldier leans up against the doorway. He's back in his light armor, weapon at his side. Waiting for Bolg, no doubt. 

"Mr. Vega!" Steve shouts, but Vega doesn't hear him. It's just too loud. Steve pushes his way past a surly elcor only to be forced up against a wall by a squad in blue armor: Blue Suns. Bolg and his unit making their way to their post. The crowds separate for the mercs, but close off again before Steve can follow in their wake. And for a moment he's glad of it, hanging back while Bolg and Vega come face to face. 

Vega greets Bolg with a smug smile. It's the sort of smile he might wear after a bloody and victorious firefight. But Bolg returns confidence with confidence: he looks like an four-eyed cat about to eat the canary. 

Bolg's men pull their weapons. Some Omega tourist shrieks. The people between Steve and Vega condense and increase. Most feign disinterest--less than successfully--but a few are openly eager for bloodshed. 

"EDI." Steve struggles past an arguing couple. "Can you get a connection?" 

"I am attempting one now. It would be better if you could get closer."

Muttering apologies out of habit, Steve elbows his way through the crowd. It feels like ages before he breaks through, almost stumbling into the polite semi-circle of space the rubberneckers have given Bolg and his men. He ignores the curses hurled at the back of his neck, desperately looking to see that Vega is all right. 

Vega is still smiling, arms crossed over his chest. "…Terminating your services, _pendejo_." 

The batarian's eyes narrow into slits. "Aria and I have a contract."

"Not any more. Call into base if you don't believe me. Eclipse was so happy to take your place they gave us a discount." Vega shrugs nonchalantly. "Your boss was real pleased to learn you were the reason he lost the contract, by the way."

One of Bolg's men mutters behind him.

"Yes, you idiot, call!" Bolg snarls. 

The other batarian turns half away and speaks into his omnitool. A moment later, he leans in towards Bolg. Bolg's face distorts with rage. 

"You son of a diseased varren!" His huge nostrils flare. He bares sharp teeth but Vega doesn't blink, doesn't flinch. Bolg's fury ratchets higher. "You screw with my contract, I'll screw with you, dog." 

He jabs his thumb into his omnitool. Steve flinches sympathetically, but there's no need: Bolg's omnitool display never opens up, and there's no familiar whine. Instead, sparks fly from his bracer. Bolg jerks and shakes his wrist, shouting in fury and pain. 

Vega smiles, teeth even and white. 

"Oh, yeah. Aria and I hope you like our little going away present for you." 

Steve wants to leap up and punch the air, to kiss him, dizzyingly glad that somehow Vega has made this work. That between EDI's hack module and whatever he and Aria have come up with, he's disabled Bolg's handle. 

But there's a flicker of orange around Bolg's forearm; static-ridden and distorted at first, the omnitool interface soon stabilizes. Bolg's scowl transforms into a shark's grin. He keys in a series of commands. 

He laughs. 

"Nice try, dog."

Vega's smile slips away. "No--" 

The distinctive sound of tech firing whines through the air. 

Vega jerks away from the doorframe. "Fuck." The muscles in his jaws jump as he clenches his teeth. His nostrils flare and color flares across his cheekbones. His hands fist. But his eyes lock on Bolg and his chin stays up defiantly. 

Sneering, Bolg slides a gauge up on his omnitool display. 

Vega shows nothing for a moment, but then his mouth twists. His control snaps. He drops to his knees, clutching his neck. "Fuck! You! Motherfucker!" The tendons in his neck stand out. He presses his lips together, the earlier flush fleeing until his skin is terrifyingly pale. 

Steve starts towards Vega before EDI's voice urgent in his ear stops him. "Lieutenant. I have achieved a connection." 

"I can't just stand here--"

"Lieutenant. If you interfere, you could disrupt the connection. Two percent intrusion achieved."

Digging his nails into his palms, Steve forces himself to just watch. Bolg looms over Vega. The batarian's fingers land on the top of Vega's head almost gently, then dig into Vega's scalp, forcing his head back. Vega's skin is damp with sweat. 

"Remember the first time Aria used this on you? Never thought I'd enjoy seeing a human male writhing around like some blue asari whore so much. Watching you try not to scream was my favorite part. Don't know why Aria dropped that part of your little act." Bolg's laugh is mocking. "How about you dance for me now, Jimmy?"

Vega spits at Bolg. " _Chinga tu madre!_ "

Wiping his face off calmly, Bolg smiles wider. Vega doubles up, a sharp grunt giving way to a half-scream. 

Steve grits his teeth. Under his breath he mutters, "Jesus… EDI…" 

"Five percent, Steve."

Bolg crouches down beside Vega. "What, out here not good enough for you? I suppose a show off like you wants his stage? We can get you that, Princess." He looks at the other Suns, jerks his chin to call them over. There's a scuffle as they try to haul Vega to his feet by his arms, Bolg barely managing to get out the way of Vega's booted foot as he kicks and twists. Vega's eyes are wide, his teeth bared in a grimace; for all the agony on his face, he still manages to find the strength to fight, to summon up the soldier inside. They finally wrestle him towards Afterlife, slamming him face-first into the doors before they part. His weight as he falls into the corridor nearly drags them down; for a moment Steve hopes he'll break away, but he doesn't, and then the club doors close behind them. 

Steve feels helpless and stupid. His fingers itch for a weapon even though he knows it would be worthless; he can't attack Bolg. Around him the crowd is dissipating, the majority of bystanders not so interested as to get involved. Steve glances around himself to make sure no one is tracking his movements and follows them into Afterlife. 

"Steve, I have lost the connection again."

"I know. I'm trying to catch up." He hates the waver in his voice, and can't tell if it's rage or fear or both. "Damn it-- I--" 

The few patrons in the dim lower level break away from their hasty makeouts and boasting conversations to stare as the batarians and Vega go past. Vega fights every step of the way, but no one moves to help him. Steve even hears one woman mutter Vega's name, recognizing him, but she doesn't interfere. No one does. Omega's taught them better. 

Steve swallows his fury. He marks at least one Alliance uniform and barely bites his tongue. He'd love to pull a Shepard, lose his temper in the face of injustice, show a little of his darker side, but now's not the time. He trails the group into the main club. 

Bolg and his men make a beeline for one of the dancer's platforms in the outer ring of the lower level. When they reach one he shoves Vega toward it. The big ex-marine collides with the asari already dancing there. Her first cry is a protest: "Jimmy, what the hell, I'm dancing here--" before the batarians raise their guns and she gets a good look at Vega. Her mouth bunches up. She glares at the batarians. "Aria's going to--"

Vega grabs her arm, shakes his head. He growls something at her that makes her back off the platform with one more glare at the Blue Suns. 

Steve falls in with a nearby group of spectators. He wonders where Aria's men are. Thinks, surely she has eyes and ears that would have informed her by now. 

"Re-establishing connection," EDI says in Steve's ear. "Recovering. Intrusion progress 10%." 

Bolg steps onto the platform. His first two shots kill the nearby speakers. Startled dancers and patrons stare at Vega and Bolg. Jimmy Vega's name ripples through the silence; Aria's too. Bolg grinsferally. 

"Better now, Vega?" he says. "Now you have all the attention you want. Now we have _her_ attention. Don't we, Aria?" He looks around the club, as if searching for her eyes and ears, synthetic and organic. "We've got a special show tonight, just for you, Aria! A very special dance."

"EDI, can't you go any faster?" Steve whispers. 

"Would you prefer to take over, Lieutenant?" EDI counters, and Steve wisely shuts up. 

Bolg's hand moves over his omnitool. Vega lurches to his feet, swaying. Braces himself against the dancer's pole. Mutters something. 

"What?" Bolg snarls. When Vega doesn't answer, he jabs at the leash control. Vega hunches over in pain. When he recovers, he grunts, louder: 

"Said I'd love to show you my kind of dancing, you hairless ballsac--" 

His taunt breaks up into a series of choked grunts. He hangs onto the pole with his right hand again, but his knees give out and he sags halfway to the floor. He drags himself back up, fresh blood gleaming under one nostril. 

"You want to show me how to dance?" Bolg sneers. "Then show me, dog! Come on." 

Surprised, almost pleased looking, Vega takes a swing at him. It's a mistake: as soon as he connects with Bolg, the leash activates. With a bellow of pain, Vega crumples back down onto his knees. Laughing, Bolg kicks him in the side with one heavy boot, knocking him over. 

"Come on, dog, dance!"

His kicks catch Vega in the gut, in the back, in the face. Vega curls into a ball. His body is protected by his light armor, but his face isn't, and Bolg's boot opens up a bloody gash in his cheek. 

Steve thinks of Robert, of being forced to listen and unable to do anything. "It's been three minutes, EDI!"

"Your friend's earlier attempt to hack into the leash has activated Bolg's general omnitool defenses. I am attempting to compensate."

Bolg sneers, practically crowing over Vega. "Aria should see you now, dog," he says, cackling, and then, "ARIA! Do you see this? ARIA!" He laughs. "The great Queen of Omega won't even come protect her favorite plaything. Pathetic."

Vega's laugh is shaky as he struggles upright. "Don't you get it, Bolg? You're not worth her time, _pendejo_. _We're_ not worth her time. People like you and me, _cabron,_ we're just a couple of omega dogs."

It's the wrong thing to say. Bolg's ugly face bunches up with rage. Vega hunches into an agonized ball as Bolg applies the leash again and again.

Steve can't take it anymore. He starts forward. EDI's protest buzzes in his ear.

"Lieutenant, getting any closer is not recommended. I have achieved fifty percent access. If you will refrain a little longer."

"I can't just watch this. What if that was Joker up there?"

"Jeff would trust me."

"EDI, goddammit--"

"Fifty-five percent."

Suddenly there's a gun in his face and a batarian growling at him to back off. 

For one moment, Steve is ready to take on the batarian. To somehow get his gun away, knock it aside, twist it out of his grip, point it straight at Bolg's ugly face…

Vega raises his head. His eyes meet Steve's. He shakes his head. 

Steve stops cold, almost trembling with the effort not to leap onto the platform, pull Vega away, and… what? Get them both killed?

He raises both hands, backs away from the batarian mercenary, muttering apologies he doesn't mean. 

Vega and EDI are right, of course. They're close, so close. If they can just stall a little longer. If Vega can hang in there. If _Steve_ can hang in there. 

"Eighty percent," EDI reports. 

On the dancer's platform, Vega gets himself up onto his hands and knees. . "Bolg…" he rasps. "Enough. Enough, boss. You win."

Steve feels sick, watching Vega crawl towards Bolg. Even though he knows Vega is stalling, buying them time. Trying to pacify Bolg so that Steve can stand and watch until the hack is finished. Bolg's black eyes gleam as Vega reaches his feet. He can't see the hate and disgust on Vega's face, but Steve can; can see the self-loathing as he lowers his lips to Bolg's boot. 

Bolg laughs. "Aria, did you see that?" He reaches down, gripping Vega by the skull, dragging him onto his knees and jerking his head back. "Aria!"

But there's no answer from Aria. No guards, nothing. Vega was right, Steve thinks. Aria doesn't care. 

Bolg shoves Vega away, shouting: "Coward! Aria! Cowering behind your cameras and guards." He gestures broadly at Vega. "I've got your little toy, Aria! I know you can see me!" He spreads his arms. "ARIA! I know you're listening, Aria!"

  
  
Art by [DarkExperience](http://darkexperience.livejournal.com/1354.html)  


"Ninety-three percent," EDI says in Steve's ear. "Estimating one minute to completion."

Steve lets out a long breath. Seven percent to go. Let Bolg gloat, let him shout for Aria. In a moment, Jimmy Vega will be free. And Steve will be free to help him get a little revenge. Just a little longer… 

"Them, stop them!" 

An asari shoves past Steve, a trio of bouncers through the crowd. It's not Aria; it's the dancer, Laily, that Bolg forced off the platform. Steve tenses: this could be trouble. The bouncers eyeball the mercs with less than pleasure. 

"All right," one of the bouncers, a turian, says. "Let's break this up. Bolg, you know you're not allowed on the premises." 

Two of the Suns fall back, looking wary, their expressions suggesting they don't think they've been paid enough to tangle with the bouncers. The third puts a hand on his weapon. 

"Stay out of this Orrus," Bolg snarls. "Where's Aria?" 

"Aria?" The turian bouncer laughs. "Don't make me laugh. She wouldn't waste her time with this.--Er, sorry, Jimmy." 

Bolg's mental snap is almost audible. 

Steve sees Bolg go for his weapon at the same time as the bouncers. Suddenly there are drawn weapons everywhere; the bouncers, the mercs, Bolg. A barrage of gunfire. The first shots take out the Suns, and rip down Bolg's shields. 

The next round will kill him, and with him, Vega. 

Steve does the only thing he can think of; he throws himself at the batarian. 

He feels the burn of a mass-effect accelerated slug through his shoulder even as he knocks Bolg down to the ground. 

Everything hurts. He hears Vega shout his name, feels blood soak his uniform. From somewhere on Bolg's thrashing body under him, an omnitool warning sounds: 

_Handler wounded. Termination will commence. Abort override expiring in 5._. 

"No!" Steve grabs for Bolg's wrist, trying to shut the process down, but the omnitool is keyed to Bolg's signature only, of course. Despair closes in fast on Steve, drags at him from the darkness at the edges of his vision. 

_3,_ the omni tool chirps. _2._

And then EDI's voice: "I have disabled the leash, Lieutenant." 

The countdown from Bolg's tool freezes at 1. Steve's relief explodes out of him in a long breath. 

Somebody rolls him over onto his back. It's Vega, eyes wide, face pale. Steve can see his mouth moving, but can't hear what he's saying. 

"Mr. Vega," Steve says, tasting blood in his mouth. "Hey." 

And then everything goes dark.


	10. Chapter 10

Steve wakes in the Normandy’s sickbay. His body aches and his head throbs and the white lights are too bright. But he wasn't sure if he was ever going to wake up at all, so any kind of consciousness is nice.

And then Vega's big grin is in his face and that's _really_ nice. 

"Hey, Esteban," Vega says. Gone are his Omega trappings; no more light armor, no stripper's bodysuit. He looks good in a plain grey t-shirt and black fatigue pants. 

Steve grins back. "Hey, Mr. Vega."

"Still ticking?" Vega's hand lands on his chest, over his heart, warm and heavy and large.

Steve covers it with his own. The movement pulls on his newly bonded flesh. "Yeah. I think."

"You just missed the Commander," Vega says. 

"Shepard?" Steve starts to sit up, hisses as pain jolts through his side. Vega presses him back down into the mattress. 

"I think she's a little pissed at you."

"At me?"

"Storming in there, playing the hero. Stealing all her thunder."

Steve starts to protest: "I--" 

But Vega isn't done yet. "And then getting yourself almost killed." He snorts. "I'm with her on that one, Esteban. If you weren't lying there all broke up I'd kick your ass myself."

Steve laughs. "That bad, huh?"

Vega's smile falls. "The worst, _pendejo_." He shakes his head. "Anyway. I'm serious. You didn't have to risk your neck like that. Not for some idiot you just met." 

"Of course I did," Steve says, softly. "Well, and I didn't do that much. It was mostly EDI. And you, for distracting Bolg as long as you did."

Vega frowns, not quite meeting Steve's eyes. "You almost died." His voice is low, and a little hoarse.

"Why, Mr. Vega. I'd almost think you cared." 

Vega's gaze snaps back up. He glares at Steve. "Of course I care," he says. "Asshole. I care a fucking lot, even if you're just some jerk I just met a couple days ago."

Steve doesn't know what to say. He hopes his ear-to-ear smile is enough answer. Or the long slow kiss he pulls Vega into. When they come up for air, he says, "Bolg?" 

"Handed him over to Aria. Almost feel sorry for the bastard." 

Steve shakes his head. "What the hell was he thinking?"

Vega touches the back of his neck. "Probably figured he'd humiliate Aria so much by publicly torturing her 'pet' that all her enemies would move in on her and he could step in to fill the void. He just didn't get her, obviously. I'm nothing to Aria. She doesn't care what happens to me. She barely blinked when Shepard showed up and took me into custody." He shrugs, carelessly. "Bolg was wasting his time." 

"You're always doing that," Steve says. "Underestimating yourself. I doubt those bodyguards would have shown up with Laily if Aria hadn't given them permission."

Vega frowns. "I don't know. Maybe." 

Steve puts a hand over Vega's, squeezes his fingers. "So now what?" 

"Now," Vega says, sitting up straighter, "I go back to Earth and face the music for deserting. After, you know, Shepard's wedding and all on Palaven." 

Steve rubs the gun calluses on Vega's big hands. "You scared?"

Vega pauses. Shakes his head. "Nah. It's time, I think. Adios Jimmy Vega, pole dancer; back to just James." 

"'Just James'," Steve scoffs. "Just James is more than enough for me." 

Vega's smile is broad and open and genuine. Grateful. "So," he says, standing, and then climbing onto Steve's cot. Straddling him. "How about a private farewell performance, _guapo_?" He rolls his hips once in Steve's lap.

Steve's eyes widen. He glances over at the windows in the medbay. "Uh, shouldn't we-- Maybe when I get moved somewhere more private?" 

Vega shrugs, casual and confident. "It's late. Nobody's around." He tugs off the curve-hugging t-shirt, pulls it over his head slowly, giving Steve a good long look at his body. Bruised and scarred and beautiful. With a laugh, Vega swings the shirt over his head before tossing it behind himself. "What do you say, hero?"

"Just Steve," Steve says, blushing. And then groans as Vega grinds against his now-hard cock. 

"Never 'just Steve'," Vega says, unbuttoning his trousers while still rocking his hips. Vega rises up on his knees and Steve groans in protest as Vega's pressure and warmth leaves his cock. Steve's breath comes fast and shaky as he watches Vega push down his trousers and free himself. There's no doubting that Vega wants this, no thinking that Vega's just putting on a show: Vega's fully engaged, his cock flush and at attention, dripping precum. This is better than any dance at Afterlife. This is honest Vega, the real Jimmy Vega, Steve thinks, Lieutenant James. 

Vega discards the trousers over the side of the cot. 

"Do I get to touch now?" Steve says, lightly, joking. In answer, Vega grabs his hands and pulls them over his ass. Steve strokes his fingers over the firm curve, loves the way Vega pushes back into his touch. Vega's attention turns to Steve's groin, pushing up the thin medical gown to reveal his hard cock. 

Vega swipes a packet of something from the tray of medical supplies near the bed. Tears the packet open with his teeth and pours it in his palms: lube. 

"Should I even ask?" Steve laughs, and then gasps, as Vega takes him in hand, slicking the lube over him. Steve watches Vega's rough, huge fist pump over him, moves his own caresses forwards until he's stroking Vega as well, until Vega's jaw is clenched and he's taking soft, sharp breaths, fighting to keep from losing it. 

Then Vega is shifting forward, leaning far over Steve, kissing him. More distraction, pulling Steve's attention away and then Vega's gripping Steve's cock, positioning it against himself, sinking down onto Steve until he's fully impaled. Steve moans. Vega takes that moan from him, kisses him and swallows it down. Begins to move over Steve, slowly at first, and then faster, more urgently. 

Steve's never seen anything so beautiful, he thinks, as James Vega over him, penetrated, flush with pleasure and riding him, hard. He rocks his hips up to meet Vega, press into him deeper. Vega grins and groans and quickens his rhythm. 

Steve loves the way that Vega moves for himself, this time, for nobody's pleasure but his own, desperate and needy. 

" _Asi,_ " Vega gasps, " _Dios! Asi._ " 

Steve tightens his grip on Vega's cock, strokes him faster, urges him on softly: "Come on, James, come for me." 

But instead of obeying, Vega laughs and groans and clenches his teeth, and, shaking like an exhausted animal, stills. Opens his eyes, just a slit, his pupils huge, his expression wanton. 

"You first," Vega growls. "I wanna watch you, this time." 

And then he's doubling his pace in Steve's lap, his body tightening around Steve. Steve lets himself go, lets Vega fuck him until he's digging his fingers into the thin mattress underneath him, until he's thrusting up into Vega so fast his muscles are burning and his healing wounds protest, until Vega is begging him: 

" _Vente_ , Esteban, come for me!"

And then he's coming, filling Vega up completely, emptying himself. Vega groans a moment later, and come spills over Steve's fist, spatters hot and damp onto his medical shift. Doc Chakwas is probably going to kill him, but he doesn't care, just laughs as Vega slows his pace, as Vega sighs with pleasure and then falls down on top of him, huge and warm. He's still buried inside of Vega as they shift slightly, onto their sides, and this time he rolls his hips to make Vega groan. 

Vega laughs and presses his forehead against Steve's. His skin is fever-hot, damp. "Good show."

Steve kisses him. It's a soft kiss, mouths and no tongues, sweet and almost chaste. "About that," Steve murmurs. "You better not mean farewell performance as in saying goodbye to me." 

Vega opens one eye and then the other. There's a long moment, too long, when the slowing rush of Steve's heartbeat is too loud in his ears. 

"I might be going to prison, Steve. Probably will be." 

"No way. Shepard'll tell them how you held off the Reapers on Omega. That your efforts probably kept Cerberus off our backs. If you hadn't given the Illusive Man so much trouble--they could've really interfered with our fight against the Reapers. Caused delays that would've made things so much worse."

Vega laughs. "You give me too much credit, Esteban." 

Steve laces his fingers with Vega's. Squeezes. "Never." 

Vega is silent for a long time. Then he says, "But if they do send me up..."

"I'll send a cake with a Grizzly baked inside."

Vega laughs. "Or I suppose…you could visit now and then." 

"Yeah. I suppose," Steve says. "Maybe if you're real good, I'll dance for you."

"Steve Cortez, pole dancer? Doesn't have the same ring to it." Vega wraps his arms around Steve's neck, pulls them together, burying his face against Steve's neck. "Just don't forget me, all right, Esteban?" 

"How could I forget Lieutenant James Vega, Alliance marine?" Steve presses his cheek against Vega's. "I'm more worried _you'll_ forget again."

Vega's arms tighten around Steve's neck. "Not as long as you remind me, hero." 

Steve smiles. "Any time."

  
  
by [DarkExperience](http://darkexperience.livejournal.com/1354.html)  



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